Last Night
by aphinitea
Summary: Prequel to Cygnus Melancoryphus. Remus has been mourning the loss of his lover, Sirius. Now he has no need to mourn anymore. RLSB, 2shot, complete.
1. Last Night

Dedicated to those who reviewed 'Cygnus Melancoryphus'. Thank you so much!

Discalimer: I don't own anything but the plot and DEFINITELY the plot of Cygnus Melancoryphus.

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**Last night**

Dark stormy clouds rode the horizon.

It was going to be a long night, Remus thought. Ever since Sirius had died, each day had felt long. Tiring.

He was the last of the Marauders.

_The last one..._

A drop of water descended on his cheek. Idly, he held out his hand to see if it was raining.

It wasn't.

He sighed, feeling tired. So very tired.

White hairs shone silver in the gleaming moonlight. He looked at his enemy, the moon. Gods, how many nights he'd stayed in Madame Pomfrey s care. Yet he'd never felt lonely -in those days, he was only surrounded by friends.

Now he was surrounded by enemies.

Deatheaters with their long sweeping robes, and hoods that imitated a child s vision of death. The Ministry with their long, long scrolls and parchments and _laws_ that caged him. Caged the wolf inside him.

He sat down on the grass, near an oak tree. He'd come out for some mistletoe branches -an errand for Severus.

He wondered why he felt that he shouldn't have come.

And then he wondered why he didn't think the feeling strange. Bizarre. Weird.

It felt strange, sitting here, realising how old he really was. Watching the swirls of mist disappearing into the distance. The wind whipped his still-golden hair, and he lowered his eyelids, resting his eyes. Creamy skin hid away the amber orbs.

He didn't used to be alone. In some ways, he wasn't anymore. He had Harry, Hermione, Ron...

But it would never feel the same. Back when Sirius had been locked away in Azkaban, he'd been heartbroken, his soul killed inside him. There had been no one to go home to, cook for, scold at. There was no one to cry for, sigh for, kiss goodnight.

Sirius would be gone.

He'd never see him again.

But when Sirius had been acquitted the Dementor's Kiss, a small beam of hope had surfaced in his heart. A small part, a tiny part of his heart had healed, had fused together.

And when Sirius had come back...

He'd felt _alive_, felt revived, felt resuscitated.

And it was better than before, with both of them realising how much they'd really missed, throughout the years. How much Life could really mean. What living _was_. Now they could appreciate what life could bring.

But now. Now Sirius was gone.

Sirius was gone.

And he was alone once more.

He let out a breath of air.

A twig snapped.

Spinning around, he reached for his wand, the movement practiced and immaculate. His golden eyes narrowed into slits, and his arm reached forward in a gesture of self-defence. Muscles tense in anticipation, he scanned round, the wolf's instincts and his own merged into one.

Frightened emeralds appeared behind the tree.

He relaxed. "Harry."

An answering smile. "Remus."

A gesture, directed at the grass; and they sat down.

"Why are you here?" Questioning eyes; yet he could sense the wariness behind the look. He knew that there was a lifetime of guilt weighing on the heart beneath the cloaks, beneath the childish frame that was fast becoming a man's.

"Severus. He's run out of mistletoe, apparently." The voice was cheerful, humorous.

If anyone but themselves were the ones in the conversation, it would be evident that their entire dialogue was a lie. But the one across them was the one who knew the other best; who knew their suffering.

Yet they still acted.

Perhaps it hurt too much not to lie. Perhaps it was asking too much for them to stop acting, to stop their roles in a play that would never end.

Or perhaps they'd simply forgotten how to tell the truth.

In any case, the conversation still held it's false pretences.

They stayed silent, the breeze serving as the ultimate answer to all their questions.

"I miss him." There was no need to ask who the statement was directed at.

"I do too." A pause. Then, quieter this time. "I do too."

They smiled. Wearily.

Then two pairs of eyes looked onto the horizon. One pair was decidedly older, amber flecked with hints of gold. The other, younger, yet old beyond their years, were emerald, flecked with hints of hazel.

_One of them wouldn't make it tonight._

Remus stirred, the thought striking him suddenly, startling him, and shattering the fragile, fake silence.

"Is something wrong?" Harry's voice, filled with concern, broke through his wild thoughts.

"No." A pause, just long enough to give the opposite answer of the reply. "No, of course not."

Harry looked at him doubtfully. Rightly assuming, though, that he would never get the true answer out of the tired werewolf, he wisely looked away.

_Crunch_.

Instantly, the two of them were on their feet, wands in hands once more. Back to back, they formed a protective circle, instinctively moving together, moving as one.

_Crunch_.

Imperceptibly, muscles tensed further, and the circle tightened.

_Snap_. A twig breaking.

Remus made a snap decision. "Harry, go get help!"

A whirl of the untidy mop of hair, eyes never leaving their surroundings.

"Remus, no!" The words were rushed, spoken harshly.

Suddenly, the shadows were looming above them. White and black danced behind the trees. Again, involuntarily, the two merged closer.

"We can't deal with this by ourselves! Harry, go get help!" Harry shook his head.

"No! There wouldn't be enough time! What about you?"

Remus replied firmly. "I'll stay here and hold them off until you come back."

"But what about time? We don't have much of it! I don't want to risk you!" The galloping of a horse made them look to the side. In minutes, Firenze stood by their side.

"Harry! The Deatheaters! What are you _doing_ here?" demanded the centaur. Harry looked at him frantically.

"Firenze! Tell him to come with me!" The werewolf and the centaur exchanged glances.

Slowly, Remus flicked his eyes over to Harry's form. Remus wondered, as the centaur gave a tilt of his head in promise. He wondered why it felt as if he was saying his last goodbyes.

And then Firenze was gathering Harry onto his back, and Harry was yelling at him to promise him. Promise him to live. To promise him to survive.

And he could hear himself promising, even though, inside, he knew that he would break the promise. The promise that a mother makes to save her child from what she herself knows she cannot escape.

Briefly, he wondered why he was feeling this way.

And then Harry was flying across the fields.

* * *

Harry looked in shock, as he rode across the grass, across the flowers, Remus' form getting smaller by the second. And suddenly, he couldn't get enough of the sight of the werewolf. Almost as if, if he could see him, then Remus would still be alive.

For a moment, he saw Remus' smile. And he knew that everything was going to be alright.

Then he saw them. He saw the black swirling robes. The white faceless masks. And he saw Remus being swallowed into that black, black sea.

And when he started to curl into himself, he didn't know. And when his voice started to keen, the animalistic sound of the injured escaping his body, he didn't know. And when he finally reached Dumbledore's side, was able to touch something human, something real; he didn't know.

He didn't know anymore.

He didn't know anymore.

Or perhaps, he just knew too much.


	2. Last night 2

Dedicated to those who reviewed 'Cygnus Melancoryphus'. Thank you so much! Read the disclaimer on the first chapter.

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**Last night II**

_"Bow to me!"_

Before, when Sirius had died, Remus had felt like his soul had been torn into pieces. He'd been broken, like a doll, and every night, another piece of him would crack again, becoming harder to heal, harder to mend.

The only thing that had kept him going was the thought that Sirius was waiting for him. Sirius was waiting for him, and he was counting on him to look after Harry, making sure he wouldn't be broken, like he was.

Then he'd started seeing him. Feeling him. Every night after he'd gone to sleep, he'd feel that blasted hand, smoothing his forehead, calming his fears. He'd feel that cursed weight on his bed.

And he knew. He _knew_ that Sirius had come.

But every night that Sirius wouldn't speak, wouldn't stop, wouldn't wake him, hurt him more than anything he knew. Everyday, the bitterness had grown: until Harry had asked.

_"Why aren't you in mourning?"_

Startled at first, he'd asked himself. Surely, Harry could see that he was hurting? That he was in pain? But then he knew. He knew why, and he knew how.

_" 'Love-is anterior to Life-  
Posterior-to Death-  
Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth-' "_

He'd smiled then, and he smiled now.

_Vaguely, he realised that there was wetness crawling down his cheek.He put his hand to it; then he realised that it was blood._

_His own blood._

He'd kept his promise to Sirius. The final promise, the unspoken promise.

The promise to live on.

And he had.

He had, and now he was going to see Sirius once more. And he wouldn't be spoilt, and he wouldn't be tainted, and he wouldn't be dark.

_"No."_

Opening his eyes, his amber, golden, beautiful eyes, he looked at the hideous creature which had killed them all, killed their lives. The one that had threatened to put him on a permanent Imperio, rendering him an eternal puppet to the darkness, to the shadows.

And he smiled. Because he hadn't. Not really.

And he pointed the wand at himself, and said in a clear, ringing voice.

_"Avave Toxiqus."_ 1

And then there was no more.

For the two halves had become one.

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1. To poison through the veins. A spell I made up...seemed appropriate, since you can't use the Avada unless you're thinking evil thoughts, and swords just seemed too messy. 


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